


Light Up the Sky

by redmyeyes



Series: Never mind, I'll remember you this way [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Best Friends, Character Bleed, Entertainment Weekly, First Kiss, M/M, angsty monologuing, non-au, photoshoot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:54:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29463111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redmyeyes/pseuds/redmyeyes
Summary: An emotional breakdown during the last ever Supernatural photoshoot leads Jensen and Jared to reflecting on the past fifteen years and to revelations on half a lifetime spent together.
Relationships: Genevieve Cortese/Jared Padalecki (mentioned), Jensen Ackles/Danneel Harris (mentioned), Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Series: Never mind, I'll remember you this way [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2177022
Comments: 24
Kudos: 52
Collections: SPNColdestHits





	Light Up the Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Recently I stumbled on [these GIFs](https://jamiedornaniseverything.tumblr.com/post/615403410289737728/supernatural-cover-shoot-entertainment) and videos from the Entertainment Weekly photoshoot that the boys did back in.. I want to say April 2020, but not entirely sure. And, to me, Jared looked so _miserable_ that I had to know _why_... this fic is the result. Apologies in advance for much angst. This is not, in any way, meant to represent reality.
> 
> I am generally wives-positive, but there is some minor infidelity here. Please don't read if this bothers you. I did try and make this a straight-up friendship-fic... I tried, okay? They wouldn't let me. >_>;

* * * * *

_I've also tried to recognise those moments and take them in. 'Cause usually my M.O. is just to ignore them, and push it away… I get that from Dean, I guess._

_\- Jensen Ackles, interview with Entertainment Weekly_

* * *

"If I have to go back out there, I'll kill myself. I'm serious, man, I can't do it."

Jensen nods patiently. It's not the first time Jared's made such a declaration, not even the first today. They're on break in the middle of a long-ass photoshoot for Entertainment Weekly – already six hours and counting – the final one scheduled for Supernatural, ever, and Jared's in the middle of a meltdown, pacing the confines of his tiny trailer where he's locked himself inside with Jensen.

He'd stormed into his trailer the instant break was called, Jensen hot on his heels. These photoshoots make Jared antsy and impatient even in the best of times, but he's been especially on edge all day today, oscillating wildly between desolation and fury, and Jensen's been cautiously trying to suss out the cause since they'd arrived at the crack of dawn, along with attempting to coax Jared into the fake smiling ease that the photoshoot requires.

"I get it, Jay," Jensen tries, "but it's one more setpiece and then done, right? You got this."

Jared throws him a look like Jensen assuredly does _not_ get it, and Jensen throws up his hands in self-defense.

Jared scrubs his hands through his hair, huffing out a bitter laugh. "Whatever, man. It's easy for you. All you have to do is whip out the broody blue steel," he mimics the look, pursing his lips into an absurd pout. "I just look ridiculous when I try."

Jensen gives him a dumbfounded look. "Are you kidding me?" he asks flatly. True, Jensen's perfected what Jared likes to call his "blue steel" look: he's been hiding behind it since he was a teenager, and it comes as naturally to him as breathing. But Jared doesn't _have_ to use it. Doesn't have to use _anything_ , face so open and expressive and naturally photogenic that there's no need for him to hide behind something so carefully manufactured. And with his wide brow, strong jaw, long silky hair and physique cut like a Greek statue, Jensen doesn't think Jared could take a bad photo if he tried. But hell if Jensen's going to reassure Jared about his good looks for the millionth time.

"What?" Jared asks plaintively. "You know I can't pull off broody."

Jensen pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation. They've had this conversation maybe a million times over the years; he's not sure why Jared is choosing to rehash it now. "Look, you want a 'look'? You have two options: you flash the megawatt smile and dimples or you bring out the puppy-dog eyes. Although, gotta say, haven't seen much evidence of the smile lately."

"Yeah, well," Jared starts, glaring at the floor, "hasn't been much reason for it to come out."

Jensen waits him out, sure there's something following.

"I just can't handle this fake bullshit anymore," Jared spits out after a moment, his voice scathing. He stares at Jensen imploringly. "You know what they're having us do next? They've got like a hundred champagne bottles set up back there. Take after take after take of 'celebration' and fake smiles and spraying champagne all over each other like we're– like this is…" he breaks off, floundering. "End-times fun or something, I don't know, man."

Jensen rolls his eyes, carefully aiming his tone at light and joking. "Yeah, last Supernatural photoshoot ever. Tragic."

Jared's eyes widen, as if he hadn't even considered that point. "Last ever…" He echoes, his eyes immediately watering.

Jensen, overly familiar by now with the emotional onslaught brought on by Jared's sequencing of "last ever" realizations – last ever hiatus, last ever first script, last ever holiday party, last ever shot at xyz location, on and on and on – rushes to interrupt that train of thought before Jared spirals too far downwards.

"Hey, hey, stop, don't go down that road. You hate these things, remember? You can't be both upset that it's happening _and_ upset that this is the last one."

Jared's staring at the ground, but finally shakes his head and gives Jensen a rueful smile. "Who says I can't?"

Jensen grins at him, slapping him on the shoulder. "Your brain, man, I swear to god…"

Jared huffs out a breath. "Yeah, you should try living in it."

Jensen's grin fades to a sad smile. He knows… well, he may not know the actual contents of Jared's mind, but he's familiar enough with its outward manifestations and with how helpless he feels in trying to piece Jared back together when he gets like this. He gives Jared's shoulder another gentle nudge. "C'mon, Jay, talk to me… what's really going on?"

Jared gestures helplessly. "It's just… it's everything, you know? It's fucking everything. This fake 'happy-happy-it's-the-end' bullshit, and I'm supposed to be… " He shakes his head, letting the statement drop. "And Anna's on my ass about Walker and I have no fucking clue how to make all these decisions I need to make or if it's even gonna work at all, and I haven't seen my babygirl in a _month_ , and the world's on fucking fire and it's the zombie freaking apocalypse out there and people are _dying_ , Jen, and I can't… I fucking can't–" He's on the verge of hyperventilating, hands curled into tight fists, pounding into his forehead like he means to crush the thoughts out of his head with physical force.

"Hey, hey, hey, it's okay…" Jensen snatches at Jared's wrists, his grip like iron, and pulls them forcibly down by his sides. He squeezes Jared's shoulders hard, then nudges Jared's forehead down onto his own.

"Okay, Jay, s'okay. Breathe with me," Jensen murmurs, voice soft as he strokes down Jared's arms for long moments, as if gentling a spooked horse. His hands settle on Jared's shoulders and he tightens them, squeezing until he can see some of the tension physically draining out of him.

Jared's head thumps down onto Jensen's shoulder, his hands clutching at Jensen's hips as if to keep himself upright, and Jensen wraps his arms around his shoulders, threading one hand through Jared's hair.

"I can't be 'happy-Jared', Jen… I don't know how to be what they want me to be out there…" Jared's voice comes out small and forlorn and Jensen's heart breaks at the sound of it.

He nudges Jared's chin up with a finger until Jared's looking at him, then his hands come to cradle either side of Jared's head. He stares until he's sure that Jared is registering, then pronounces his words slowly, deliberately. "That? Out there? Not real. Okay? You don't have to _be_ anything. You just have to _act_."

Jensen drops back, spreading his arms wide in the air as if displaying a marquee: "'Jared Padalecki, famous TV star.' That's all they want."

He settles back, resting his weight on the edge of the desk half a step behind him, still carefully watching Jared's face.

"I've seen you pull yourself together from much worse than this to go be Sam," he continues. "This is no different."

Jared raises his head, eyes flashing fire. "It _is_ different." His voice is adamant. "It is."

"Why? Sam Winchester is the character you play on TV. Jared Padalecki is the character you play in the real world. No different." There's a finality to his tone, brooking no arguments, and he tries to ease up a little, pull back into something gentler. "I've been trying to tell you this for fifteen years, man," he says, pleading.

Jared shakes his head, long hair falling down to shield his face, and Jensen's hands itch to push it back, tuck it behind his ears. "Sam is real. Sam and Dean are–" Jared breaks off, shaking his head again. "You _know_ they're real. I know you know this. I can _be_ Sam. I don't have to _act_ him."

Jared's working himself back into a frenzy, pacing like a caged animal in this tiny, tiny space, long strides only allowing him one step in either direction, and Jensen is getting dizzy watching him, unsure whether to stop Jared or let him wind himself down.

"I can be Sam," Jared repeats. "I can be Jared. But I can't be happy-smiley-Jared when I'm _not_ that. I don't know why this is so hard for you to–" he tears his hands through his hair in obvious frustration. "I can't just paste on this fucking bullshit persona like you can. I can't _take_ anymore of the posing and the fake smiles and… how is that _real_? How is that in any possible fucking way connected to fucking reality? How is that in any way meaningful or, or.. fucking _purpose_ ful or helpful…? That bullshit out there?" He points outside the trailer. "It's everything that's wrong with the world."

"Jay. Jesus. It's a fucking photoshoot, man, okay? It's not some.. this doesn't have to be some existential crisis." Jensen clips out shortly, trying to reign back anger and impatience. "Is it the most meaningful thing we could be doing with our lives? No. It's fucking bullshit, you're right. Just.. one of the downsides of the job, along with the fourteen-hour days and the lack of sleep and the lack of any kind of personal life in general and–" he cuts himself off, exhaling hard. "But we put our heads down, we do the work. We go out there and be fucking charming. You don't have to be _you_ out there. You just have to be Jared, the charming, happy-go-lucky TV star."

Jared has drained himself out, he's back to standing stock-still in the center of the trailer, head hanging down. "If Jared Padalecki is fake… if he's just some character I put on… " Jared breaks off, scrubbing his hands over his face before they fall heavy to his sides. "Then I don't know what's real. I don't know who… where… I am."

Jared is so open. Beyond open. From the moment Jensen had met him, Jared foregoing a handshake in favor of bounding into his arms like a giant puppy and engulfing him in a crushing hug, he's always been… _unfathomably_ open. More than wearing his heart on his sleeves, his emotions _radiate_ from him, so much on the surface it's as if they're etched into his skin, pulsing with life and ever-changing energy.

That openness, that gossamer-thin boundary between his internal and external worlds is what makes Jared an amazing actor, but sometimes… sometimes, like now, he's in danger of drowning in that tsunami, emotional riptides pulling him apart, pummeling him against the rocks and dragging him down beneath the current over and over again until he's bruised and bloodied and gasping for air, and it's all Jensen can do to try and gather up the wreckage.

Jensen has always been the opposite: every emotion shoved down deep until it needs to come out in a scene, and then it operates purely on instinct. He can't think about emotion at all, or his acting gets bogged up somehow. But outside of those precise moments where he needs to let himself go, where he's _safe_ and contained enough to let himself go, where there's a purpose to it… outside of those times, he's together, controlled, affect calculated and parsed out based on who's in the vicinity and how it will affect them, him, their relationships, on and on, a thousand minute variables amalgamating into one instinctual calculation. This comes so naturally to him he literally can't imagine operating any other way. Certainly can't fathom being even half as raw and open as Jared is _all_ the time. Jared is a complete anathema, and his mode of being terrifies and fascinates Jensen in equal measure.

"Jared, you…" Jensen struggles to put some of this into words, speaking slowly as he attempts to collect his thoughts. He steps up to Jared, putting his hand on Jared's chest, over his heart. "Here. You're here. Out there? 'Jared Padalecki', sure. Whatever. But _this_ ," he presses his hand more firmly, "This is you. This is still you. You're always here."

Jensen pauses, stepping even closer into Jared's space, speaking more into Jared's chest than his face, his voice quiet and almost tentative. "You're so open… it's what makes you a great actor… what makes you…" _a great friend, father, husband, human, the most caring, kind, compassionate person I've ever known_ "…you." He finishes lamely.

"But…" he continues, hand clenching a bit on Jared's chest, "but you've gotta learn how to protect yourself, man. Cut yourself off. Put some barriers up."

Jared tenses suddenly underneath him, words flying out with a shocking vehemence. "Says the guy who's got so many barriers he won't let himself feel a goddamn thing that's real!"

Jensen staggers back a step, stung, not following the hairpin turn, not understanding what prompted this outburst. He fights within himself for calm, trying to redirect the conversation back. "I just… I have to know you've got this. That you can _do_ this. Because I… I won't be there next time."

The enormity of what he's just said floods through him as something inside him breaks. He won't be there. _Jared_ won't be there. For fifteen years, Jared's been a constant presence in his life. Fucking _constant_. In fifteen years, he's spent more time with Jared than with his wife, kids, family, and other friends and co-workers combined. He's _always_ here. And soon, he won't be. They'll still be neighbors, technically, but how often is he even home anymore? How has he avoided thinking about this for so long? How has he taken Jared's reassuring goofy, floppy-haired, stupid-faced, overly affectionate omnipresence for granted for so long?

Panic is clawing its way up from his belly to lash tight, hot bands around his chest, strangling his throat, and he can't breathe, the impending loss hitting him suddenly like a boulder to the chest, and before he realizes it his face is crushed into Jared's shoulder, hands clutching at his shirt, and he's heaving in dry, wracking breaths, his careful veneer wrenched from him as if by an otherworldly force, and there's no control, he has no control…

He buries his face deeper, wanting to hide, wanting to burrow inside, and he's aware of only two points of contact: Jared's chest, solid underneath him, and Jared's hands, firm and reassuring on his back.

Eventually – minutes? hours later? – he can feel his shuddering subside by inches, and he takes a few deliberate deep breaths, his focus on Jared's hands rubbing soothing circles on his back. He tries to regather himself, grateful for Jared's solidity, even more grateful for his accepting silence. Is this what Jared feels all the time? This shattering openness?

Jensen pulls back, scrubbing his hands quickly over his eyes, wiping away wetness. He staggers back and collapses onto the couch, bone-heavy and drained. Jared sinks down beside him, long line of him pressing into Jensen's side. Jensen hesitates for a fraction of a second, then lets his head fall sideways onto Jared's shoulder, feeling tension seep from him as Jared's arm comes around his shoulders, pulling him close. Back in the day, they used to do this all the time, collapsing on each other at the end of a long shoot. But they were just playing, weren't they?

Jared's head tips down on top of his, hand squeezing Jensen's shoulder. "This is what I want," he murmurs. "When it's just you and me… barricades down. You're always so guarded, Jen. Even when it's just you and me."

"I… " Jensen clears his throat, voice raw. "I'll… I'll try, Jay. But it's forty fucking years of habit here. I don't know how to be… I can't be…" _you_ , he finishes silently. "Thought I was supposed to be the one comforting you here, anyway," he continues, voice gruff.

Jared chuckles, shoulder shrugging a little under Jensen's head. "Yeah, well, I don't have a monopoly on existential dread. Guess we'll just have to keep switching it up."

"I don't have to give up sarcasm, do I?" Jensen asks, voice intentionally dry.

Jensen can feel the smile in Jared's body even before it makes its way up to his voice, lips pressing into Jensen's forehead.

"Love your sarcasm," Jared murmurs fondly.

They're quiet for long moments, Jensen just conscious of the feel of Jared's breath in his hair, his arm warm around his shoulders. When Jared's voice comes again, it's soft. "Sometimes I wish… I wish I _could_ control myself like you do. It's so easy for you. You can just… turn the charm on and off, like that," he says, snapping his fingers. "Or shove everything aside, be everything people expect you to be…"

Jensen shakes his head a bit on Jared's shoulder. "It's not healthy, Jay, I know it's not. There's probably a… I dunno, some kind of happy medium between where we both are, but hell if I know how to get there." He pauses, letting the thought sink in and heaves a heavy sigh. "Probably why we balance each other out so well."

Jared's hand squeezes Jensen's shoulder in acknowledgement, and Jensen shifts down a bit on the couch, letting his head fall to rest on the back edge, Jared's arm still trapped behind his neck. Jared shifts beside him, mirroring Jensen's movements so that their shoulders and thighs are still pressed warm against each other, legs sprawling.

Jensen lets his eyes unfocus, gaze wandering slowly across the ceiling, around the contents of the tiny trailer, chock-full of random memorabilia, old photos taped to walls, pile of scripts in one corner, game controllers spilled on the floor in front of the TV, CDs scattered on shelves, an accumulation of fifteen years' worth of life, even after multiple changes in trailers… And when's the last time they'd even listened to CDs? They spend so much time in each other's trailers, he doesn't even know what stuff is his and what's Jared's anymore. On one shelf he spies the directors' viewfinder, first gift Jared ever gave him, birthday present while they were filming season one, and emotion rushes through him at the memory.

* * *

_Jared, awkward and endearing as he hands him a wrapped box. "Got you something."_

_"You know my birthday's not 'til tomorrow, right?"_

_"Couldn't wait," Jared grins, bouncing on his toes._

_Jensen gives him a puzzled smile as he starts unwrapping. "How'd you even know it was my birthday, man?"_

_His smile fades as he sees the lens inside. This is…_

_Jared's rushing to explain before Jensen can even say thanks. "'Cause, y'know, you never talk about it, but I see you all the time around the camera guys, asking questions, wanting to learn why directors picked this or that lens, and I think you_ could _direct, you've got the talent for it, I've seen your stills and they're_ great _, dude, you've got an eye for it…"_

_"Jay." Jensen cuts him off before the kid starts hyperventilating. "It's perfect, man, thank you," he says, pulling Jared into a tight hug._

* * *

Jensen sighs out hard, breath hitching with emotion. Jared nudges sideways into his shoulder, looking at him askance from where his head is lolling on the back of the sofa. "'Sup?" He asks quietly.

"I dunno, man, it's just…" Jensen takes a steadying breath, trying to collect his thoughts, then huffs out a bitter laugh. "D'you know, right now, back home, Danni and Armando have this new project they're cooking up?"

"Armando… wait, your architect?"

"Yeah," Jensen nods, "our architect." The word sounds bitter and resentful even to his own ears, and he's a bit shocked to realize he cared that much about it. "Our architect of the last, what, ten-odd years? Ever since we bought the damn place, it's been one project after another after another… I mean, we had a feature in fucking 'Architectural Digest', man, how much more perfect can a house _be_?" He shakes his head in disgust. "But there's always some new project, some new design work… it's like, every time I go home… I don't even recognize the place. It doesn't feel like _home_. Just some… exquisitely designed model house. It's no different for me than some anonymous hotel room."

"Yeah, but I mean, Jen, you know Danni loves doing it, and she needs something to keep her occupied, I guess…" Jared's tone is calm, placating.

"It's not about that," Jensen sighs. "I'm… happy for her to do it. Happy she's happy. But it's _her_ house, not mine. Not my home," he says, quiet.

"I dunno, it's just… _this_ …" Jensen continues, waving his arm to encompass the entire trailer, "this is more home than I've ever had since I left home at eighteen."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Jared says quietly. "I mean, I think Gen is almost happier when I _don't_ come home, you know? All of this…" He waves his arm, indicating himself, or the whole world, maybe. "Fuck, I don't know. It's a lot for anyone to deal with, let alone…" He trails off, and when he starts speaking again it's so quiet Jensen can barely make out the words. "I mean, when I'm around, it's just one more baby to take care of."

"C'mon, you know that's not true," Jensen scoffs, disbelieving.

Jared gives a small shrug, his voice flat. "She said as much to me directly."

Jensen's eyes widen, but he doesn't know what to say, has no easy reassuring response lined up, and can only fumble out a question. "How long's this been going on?"

Jared shrugs again. "Dunno, feels like forever. Since before the kids were born, anyway."

"You never said…" Jensen says, wonderingly, a little shaken by how he could've missed something so massive. "I mean, you guys always seemed… fine."

"Yeah, 'fine'," Jared echoes sadly. "I mean, that's the problem. Generally, we are fine. As long as I'm happy, as long as I'm doing okay, we're good. So I try to be…" he trails off, shaking his head. "I mean, we see each other for what, like a week at a time, months apart? Maybe a random weekend here and there in between? So I try to be.. okay. For whatever limited time we have together. I have to hold it together, so that we can be okay, together. That.. makes sense, right? I mean, if that's not a recipe for a healthy marriage, I don't know what is."

Jensen just sighs in acknowledgement. "Fuck, man, we are a pair, aren't we."

"Was it… I mean, do you think it was worth it?" Jared asks hesitantly. "All this? Fifteen years… Basically our entire adult lives. For this show. No chance of anything resembling normal lives."

"Seriously? If we wanted normal, we wouldn't be in this business in the first place," Jensen says firmly. "Yeah, it was worth it."

"I love the work," Jensen continues after a moment, earnest. "I love being on set. I love the camaraderie, I love the collaboration, I love turning what's on the page into something visual…" He contemplates for a moment, smiling at the memories. "I love walking on set and going to the caterers in the morning and getting breakfast and saying good morning to everybody and sitting down with the hair and make-up ladies and, you know, listening to them gossip about whatever it is they're gossiping about.. it's just the whole thing, the whole damn thing. Going on set and figuring out how to put this puzzle together that is a script – I love that. C'mon, we have careers that 99% of the world would kill for… you met your _wife_ … and I mean…" Jensen clears his throat from the lump suddenly lodged there, trying to force the words out. "I mean, we met each other, you know? Can't imagine how my life woulda been without you, man." He shakes his head, staring down at his hands, which have tangled themselves into a knot without his conscious input. "Still can't… can't imagine my life going forward without you."

"I'm not _dying_ , Jensen," Jared says, obviously trying hard for sarcasm, but the rawness in his voice betrays the emotion behind it. Then he cracks, crushing Jensen into a sideways hug, face pressed bruisingly into Jensen's scalp, breath hot above his ear. "Fuck, Jen, I'm gonna miss you so fucking much, I don't even know what I'm gonna do."

"Jay, stop. Please? Please stop. I can't…" Jensen chokes out. "We will cross that bridge. We will, okay? But I can't do this right now… Please, Jay."

He feels Jared nod against his head, grip loosening minutely. Jensen's hand comes up to stroke the arm Jared has slung across his chest, pulling his hand down to lace it with his own. He raises their joined hands briefly, pressing lips into tangled knuckles for a long moment before letting their hands drop back down onto his thigh.

"I get it, Jay," Jensen says finally, swallowing hard. "But I can't… I dunno, I guess I haven't really been letting myself think about it at all. You and me, I mean. 'The End'. It's too big. It's too fucking…" He squeezes Jared's hand, taking a steadying breath. "I mean, I don't know what my life even _is_ without you in it. Without you here, constantly. Not sure I know… who I _am_." He shakes his head as if to clear it. "Avoiding and ignoring is so much easier. Guess I get that from Dean," he admits after a pause, the truth of that statement surprising him a bit.

Jared huffs out a quiet laugh at that. "S'not the only thing…"

Jensen arches an eyebrow at him, questioning.

Jared gives him a little shrug, smiling. "Dunno, you don't think you're maybe the tiniest bit overprotective?"

"What overprotective? I just need to know you're okay, that's all," Jensen explains, indignant on Dean's behalf. "When you're happy, I'm happy, and if you're not happy, I need to fix it, but that's not–" he cuts himself off at Jared's raised eyebrows and widening smile and shakes his head, trying to suppress his own smile. "Yeah, yeah, okay, I hear it."

Jared makes a satisfied hmm, angling towards Jensen and smiling into his hair. "Overprotective," he repeats, voice fond.

"Says the guy who's all passion and pleading and puppy-dog eyes," Jensen counters flatly.

"Says the guy with all the abandonment and codependency issues!" Jared retorts.

"Your _face_ has abandonment and codependency issues," Jensen mutters.

Jared rocks into him bodily, chortling, and Jensen smiles, satisfied. Because he still wouldn't use the word "overprotective", but can't deny the warmth and lightness flooding him at the sound of Jared's laughter, grateful he can still coax it out of him in the midst of all this misery, feels it melt some frozen place deep inside him.

"Jen?" Jared's voice is impossibly quiet, lips hovering above his temple.

Jensen hums in inquiry, turning his face slightly towards Jared's.

"Want to kiss you," Jared murmurs. "Just… need to know."

Jensen stiffens, pulling back a hair to gauge Jared's expression.

"Fifteen _years_ , Jen," Jared continues, pleading. "And it's all gonna be over in a few months and I–" he shakes his head. " _We_. We need to know. We _need_ to."

Jensen has a million and one deflections and sarcastic quips on the tip of his tongue, but swallows them back at Jared's searching, conflicted expression. "Yeah, okay…" He swallows hard, tongue darting out to lick his lips. "Okay, Jay."

And Jared is suddenly _there_ , face too close, hand cupping his jaw, hazel eyes wide and searching. Jensen tilts his face up in permission, and lets Jared lean in close until their lips are a hair's breadth apart. There's a second of hesitation, where Jensen's only conscious of the heat and wetness of their breaths mingling over his lips, and then Jared is pressing in, lips soft over his in a chaste kiss.

Jensen's eyes fall closed and his lips part on instinct, tongue swiping out, and Jared takes it for the invitation it is, licking into his mouth, their tongues circling and mingling in a lazy tasting of each other, and the rhythm is so easy, so natural, it's like they've been doing this a lifetime.

Jensen has always been most comfortable, most relaxed, most fully _himself_ when it's just him and a bunch of buddies hanging out – since all the way back in high school, crushing a six-pack in the parking lot after a game with the guys on the baseball team, to jamming with Steve and the band in the studio – loves the gentle (and not-so-gentle) ribbing, the give-and-take, the joking and banter and teasing one-upmanship that only comes with a group of guys who are fully comfortable with each other, and he's had that with Jared from day one. And despite Jared's opinions on his so-called "barriers" – because what normal human being is as open, as earnest, as guileless as Jared? – there's probably no one on the planet that Jensen is more at ease with than Jared Padalecki.

And he realizes, in a split second, that all of his kisses with women, even Danni after all this time, have been somewhat… performative. Not that he hadn't enjoyed them – he had – but none have come close to this lazy ease. Kissing Jared is just like hanging out: it's a back-and-forth give-and-take of bites and nips and licks and swirls, tongues testing and teasing, and Jensen is losing himself in it.

"Jensen…" Jared breathes, like it's a revelation, and it's the sound of his full name, so rare coming from Jared's lips, that jolts something in Jensen, and he makes a helpless sound of _want_ , tongue surging into Jared's mouth in sudden desperation. Because this isn't just a kiss, this is _Jared_ , and there's rough stubble scraping his chin and impossibly large hands cradling his head, and Jensen's tilting his head back into them without thought, fingers twining through Jared's hair and pulling him down hard, locking him in place, jaw angling to push deeper, to taste deeper.

He pulls back just enough to nip at a lower lip before scraping his lips over strong jaw and rough stubble, loving the burn and friction of it, before he's drawn back to Jared's mouth like a magnet. It's heady and intoxicating, and he can barely think, lost in pure physical sensation of tongues, lips, teeth, swirling, sucking, scraping, of hair tangled in hands, of hands clenching on shoulder, throat, jaw, calloused thumb rubbing incessantly on cheekbone, bodies pressed close, tightening spiral of heat and wet and _want_ , and in a far distant corner of his mind a faint voice is yelling at him to _slow down, slow down, can't do this now._

He manages to ignore the voice for long moments, wanting to stay lost in this heady timelessness, but eventually it manages to reassert itself, and he tries to gather himself together with some reluctance, slowing the pace, pulling back barely enough to separate, his hands still wound in Jared's hair, their foreheads tipped together, both of them panting hard into each other's mouths. When their breathing slows, he pulls back to look at Jared, his eyes glassy and unfocused.

"Jay…" Jensen says, searchingly. "That was…"

"Lighting in a bottle?" Jared interrupts with a smirk, and goddamn him for undercutting the moment and thank god he's undercutting the moment because Jensen knows neither of them have the capacity to deal with the enormity of this right now.

"Lightning in a fucking bottle," Jensen echoes dryly, shoving him away and collapsing back on the couch with a long-suffering sigh. "You are a _giant_ dork, you do know that, right?"

"Yeah, you love me though," Jared says, smirk growing.

"Yeah I do," Jensen says seriously. And then rolls his eyes skyward. "God help me."

He heaves himself off the couch, extending a hand to pull Jared up beside him. "C'mon, let's go get this over with. Ready to go be movie stars?" Jensen flashes him a brilliant grin, suddenly ON and lighting up the entire trailer, then lets it drop just as quickly, back to flatness.

Jared stares at him wonderingly, shaking his head. "How do you even _do_ that?"

"I'm an amazing actor," Jensen says flatly, not without a little self-deprecation, turning towards the door.

"Jen?" Jared starts, pausing Jensen with a hand to his shoulder and looking at him imploringly. "What the hell are we gonna do?"

Jensen's quiet for a long moment before finally meeting Jared's eyes – so open and transparent and honest, always, every last emotion so readily apparent – seeing in them a shattering, helpless vulnerability swimming with some kind of wonder – and he feels it mirrored in himself, can feel some kind of frenetic hysteria bubbling through him at the muddled combination. "I've got no fucking clue," he laughs finally, shaking his head at the sheer ridiculous honesty of that statement.

"C'mon, brother," he continues, pushing Jared ahead of him towards the door. "I've got you." He ushers Jared out the door, hand firm on his back, following him out of the trailer into the sunlight.

* * *

A week later, Jensen texts Jared a photo. He'd asked Samantha's assistant to send him all the raw photos from the shoot, before they were all weeded through and picked over and Photoshopped and filtered to within an inch of their life. He had spotted the one he wanted almost immediately among the tens of thousands he'd scrolled through.

It's a wide shot, the two of them standing on the edge of a cliff at the left edge of frame, their backs to camera, the rest of the space filled with clear blue sky.

He hadn't been aware the cameras were on them at that point – they aren't officially posed yet – but their arms are loose around each others' waists, bodies angled towards each other and faces in profile, looking out over endless sea and sky below.

Jensen zooms in to get a better look at their expressions. Clearly Jensen's just said something hilarious, because Jared's head is thrown back in laughter, teeth gleaming and dimples in full force. He doesn't remember the joke, but remembers the laugh. It'd been the first time Jared had let go all day.

 _Jared's smile…_ Jensen thinks wonderingly. _He lights up the sky…_

He can feel his face mirroring that of his own in the photo, because photo-Jensen is looking up at Jared with what he'd really like to call "admiration", but can't deny the affection and adoration and… straight-up _awe_ written blatant on his face.

THIS IS REAL, he writes, and clicks "send".

He doesn't know what the coming months will bring, still doesn't have a clue how the hell they're going to make it through this. All he knows is that he'll do everything he possibly can to keep Jared in his life, in whatever capacity the universe will allow them, show or no show.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is taken from the song of the same name by "The Afters", but, more accurately, is taken from one of my favorite ever [J2 fanvids](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Om2i69ZCZ1I).
> 
> **
> 
> The speech Jensen gives about how much he loves the work is quoted directly from an interview he did on Michael Rosenbaum's podcast. I also obviously reused that line "I get that from Dean" from the Entertainment Weekly interview because I love that statement more than I have words to express.


End file.
